


Collapse Into Me, Tired with Joy

by LydiaStJames



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slow Burn, Teacher AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-08 12:06:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14693886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LydiaStJames/pseuds/LydiaStJames
Summary: A very slow burn. Copious references to Fortnite and Takis. Strangely specific teaching complaints. What more could you want? Kissing? Yeah, yeah, there will be kissing.(It's a Teacher AU, okay?)





	1. Hands Open

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shinealightonme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinealightonme/gifts).



> Surprise, it's me, back with an almost fanfic about the gang being teachers. There will be 2 parts. It is definitely 2 long.
> 
> ShineALightOnMe has talked me through so much of this story that I am dedicating it to her. Also, she gave me the idea to title this story by picking a song that reminded me of my own high school experience. Does anyone recognize it? Probably not, because you cutie patooties are spring chickens. I must also give a shout out to my everlasting boo, Julie, for giving me endless ideas for titles that I rejected immediately. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Challenge Day does not belong to me, it is a wholesome and wonderful program that I do fully support, but god damn it, when your administration makes you do it THREE FUCKING TIMES in a six month period, you have #feelings.

The truth was, for a long time, they existed in the same school without crossing paths. It was understandable when you knew how it all operated. Adam was part of the Science department and Ronan part of the CTE department, which meant their rooms were an opposite sides of the building and their corresponding areas of expertise had little reason to ever align. It’s how it was for everyone.

 

English with the English team.

 

Admin with the other admin. 

 

And so forth and so on.

 

Ronan and Adam crossing paths in itself was rare; the fact that, several years later, the group had become friends  _ at all _ was practically unheard of. And what a group they were: aside from Ronan and Adam, the group was comprised of an administrator, two SPED teachers, and an art teacher. 

 

For a very long time they knew each other only by last names and grading policies. (In particular, Ronan heard most about “Mr. Parrish and his obscenely difficult presentations,” and in rare moments where he forgot to tune out teenage girls’ chatter, that he was “kinda’ cute when he doesn’t have a stick up his ass.” Oh, and there was a persistent rumor overheard in the halls about Mr. Czerny’s use of a particular questionable shrubbery but Ronan didn’t pay those any attention. He subbed for Noah’s class once. That much glue would make anyone air-headed.)

 

And the first two years at Aglionby High School, Ronan assumed it would not be a place where he made friends. Definitely not a place where he’d fall in love.

 

He’d go to work simply for the joy of educating America’s youth...

 

(Oh God. Was that kid masturbating in class? Jesus Fucking Christ.)

 

...or something like that. 

 

* * *

 

 

_ August 2016 _

 

The first time Ronan and Adam  _ truly _ met, like actually exchanged more than a terse nod or a quick question about where the weekly staff meeting was being held, did not go well.

 

It was at a said weekly staff meeting which meant, of course, that Ronan was already grumpy. Henry, one of the school’s three vice-principals, greeted him at the door by handing him a notecard with a giant apple on it. In a voice far too cheery for 6:30 AM, Henry said, “Find the table with the matching picture!” and, being that he was, you know, _a fucking adult who_ _shouldn’t have to have experience assigned seating anymore,_ Ronan’s mood soured even more.

 

Parrish was already at his table. They acknowledged each other with a nod. Parrish was nursing a cup of black coffee, the lucky bastard. Ronan’s bad mood lessened briefly when Parrish nodded to the back of the room and he realized Admin had splurged for a communal pot. Coffee helped, momentarily, but then came the dreaded agenda: yet again, a new data gathering system. 

 

Fucking data. The admin team was obsessed with it for God knows why. As if Ronan  _ really _ needed to track, on a scale of 1 to 5, whether his students were improving. He taught fucking woodshop. He was pretty sure a quick look at Timmy’s mangled flower planter would show whether Timmy needed extra practice.

 

Henry was still explaining the process. Ronan muttered, “Jesus Christ.”

 

Adam’s eyes flitting to him. Ronan, fool that he was, assumed this was a show of mutual but subdued disdain. He spun his pen around his finger and leaned toward Adam and continued his tirade. (Nothing bonded teachers quite like complaining.)

 

“This is bullshit. Remember the last time we did data? They made us track it in that stupid fucking Excel sheet and what did they do with it? Nothing. Not a Goddamn thing.”

 

Adam’s lips were tight. His eyes flicked to Henry, still talking, then back to Ronan. “I found mine  useful.”

 

Henry put the new data-tracking sheet on the screen. Ronan eyed it for no more than five seconds before he said, “Look at this fucking shit. Standard deviation? Why the fuck do we need to have a standard deviation? What a colossal waste of time. I’m going to kill whatever idiot came up with this.”

 

Then, suddenly, Henry turned toward his table. Ronan blanched. At this point, Ronan was fairly unfamiliar with Henry and still feigned politeness, on account Henry was his superior. (It would only be a few months later when they began to hang out on a more regular basis. Ronan quickly realized that Henry was of no threat, and from that point onward, proceeded to be a pain in his ass.) 

 

Henry did not turn to their table to criticize their small conversation. Instead, he turned to Adam and said, “Mr. Parrish designed this template himself, so I’ll let him explain the rest.”

 

Adam sent Ronan an obvious look of disdain before he left their table and walked to the front of the room.

 

So. Yeah.

 

Not the greatest first impression.

 

* * *

 

 

_ November 2016 _

 

Adam knew his reputation at Aglionby High School, both with the students and the staff. 

 

He didn’t care what the students thought. They could hate him and call him unfair now, but he had proof of his impact in the form of a folder in Outlook where he saved the many, many emails from former students thanking him for his lessons. 

 

He was a little more apprehensive of his reputation with the other staff, if only because it made collaboration difficult. Adam’s first year ended with his admin gently suggesting he might work on befriending others, a vague statement that made more sense when he overheard two teachers describing him as “cold.” So the next year he focused on improving his relationship with the other science teachers, making sure he shared his best lessons or went to them for advice, even though he didn’t need it.

 

When it came to Ronan Lynch, Adam felt no need to be nice. Never would there need to be a  collaboration between Woodshop and Physics. 

 

Ronan could stay in the B building with his poor attitude and inappropriate mouth. No wait-- not like that-- it wasn’t Lynch’s actual mouth, even though it was, from a purely, objective point of view, shockingly plump. He meant the cursing. The stupid cursing.

 

Case in point: Adam had a particularly mouthy junior who wouldn’t stop cussing in class. Now Adam was no saint himself, but he had clear classroom expectations that forbid foul language. So much of his curriculum was learning how to present yourself professionally that he found it important to teach students that there was a time and place for cursing, and one better get in the habit of censoring themselves now before they made bad habits. 

 

He was explaining this to the student in question, Carlos, while everyone was working on their papers. “Listen, I’m not saying you can never swear. Around your friends? Sure, go crazy. But sometimes your situation or job won’t allow it. You don’t see your teachers cursing up a storm. We’d get in trouble.”

 

Carlos snorted. “Umm, that’s not true. Teachers curse all the time.”

 

“They do not.”

 

Emily, one of his brightest and most studious kids, whose name he often listed under the “Helpful Students” category of his sub notes, politely raised her hand and said, “Um, actually, it’s sort of true. Mr. Lynch curses in front of us all the time.”

 

_ That mother fucker,  _ Adam thought. 

 

So Ronan’s filthy mouth - God, why couldn’t Adam pick a word to describe Ronan’s mouth that didn’t sound like he ripped it from an erotic novel, fuck -  _ his inability to keep his language appropriate while at school _ was unprofessional.

 

Wait.

 

Why had he gotten onto this tangent again?

 

Oh, right. Because, despite there being no logical reason to collaborate with Ronan Lynch...he had to collaborate with Ronan Lynch. 

 

And he couldn’t weasel his way out of it because, well, it was about a student. A student who Adam strongly suspected was being abused. A student who he had little to no relationship with, but knew loved Lynch. 

 

And as much as he loathed Ronan Lynch, there was no way he’d let a child continue to be hurt.

 

Adam gathered his courage and found Ronan after school. He was sweeping the floor - collecting a large pile of sawdust and fallen nails - while harsh music poured from his oversized headphones. Adam had to throw a crumpled up piece of paper at Ronan’s head before he got his attention.

 

After the disaster that was the data staff meeting, Adam assumed Ronan would try to get on his good side. Apparently not. 

 

“What do you want?” Ronan asked. 

 

“I need to talk about Opal. You’re close with her, right?”

 

It was a curious thing to see how quickly Ronan’s appearance shifted. Within seconds he had discarded the headphones to the side, leaned the broom against the wall, and eyed Adam with a serious look. His arms were folded to his chest in what Adam assumed was meant to be intimidating. ( _ Jokes on you,  _ Adam thought.  _ Your arms look too nice in that button-down shirt to be intimidating. _ )

 

“What’s your problem with her, Parrish? She’s a good kid.”

 

“I know,” Adam said. “She’s one of my brightest. Very mature.”

 

Ronan’s shoulders relaxed. “So what’s the problem?”

 

One of the most curious - and perhaps depressing - parts of being an educator was how quickly you became desensitized to child abuse. It’s not that teachers didn’t take it seriously, but it happened so often that there was no point beating around the bush with one another. One teacher saying to the other, “Hey, I think this kid is getting abused” was about as normal as asking about the weather. 

 

So it was surprising to Adam when Ronan seemed shocked by his suspicion. 

 

“No fucking way.”

 

“Have you met her parents before?” Adam countered.

 

“No, but--” Ronan waved his hand around, looking for an explanation and fumbling. “She’s too smart.”

 

“So only dumb kids get beaten by their parents?”   
  
“No, fuck, that’s not what I meant.” Ronan pinched the bridge of his nose and huffed a sigh. “I just mean, she’s -- She’s got straight As. Is a school senator. Plays on the soccer team. You really think she could do all that if her home life is shit?”

 

Adam thought to his childhood. Three jobs, a 4.0 average, and weekly beatings.

 

“Yeah,” he said. “I do.”

 

To Ronan’s credit, the kids who hit a teacher’s radar for shitty home lives were the exact opposite of Opal. Always extreme in one direction: defiant or broken; wild or numb. But that didn’t mean it didn’t happen to other kids. Some were just better at hiding it.

 

But Adam recognized something in Opal. The way she’d zone out and come to, all at once, with a shudder at her neck. Her avoidance of talking about home. The way she talked about college like she needed it to survive.

 

Adam’s calm tone must have shocked Ronan into considering. Adam continued, quiet but firm, “I asked her about it but she denied it, of course. We have an okay relationship, but not-- Not like you two have. She talks about you all the time.”

 

Ronan was still quiet.

 

“I called CPS to be safe, but you know as well as I do that, without any evidence or confirmation on Opal’s end, they won’t look into it. I just--” Adam felt overwhelmed suddenly. He hadn’t expected a fight. He had even assumed, maybe, that Ronan would have had his suspicions too. “Could you just ask her? I know something’s up.”

 

Ronan grabbed his broom and resumed sweeping. “Yeah, sure.”

 

Adam thanked him and left.

 

Collaboration at its finest.

 

But the next day he got a short email from Ronan.

 

_ You were right. _

 

* * *

 

 

Ronan didn’t see Adam for awhile after that. One time he saw him in the teacher’s lounge, chatting over the coffee with the short SPED teacher with the stupid name. Adam had that trademark smile that men often wore around women, the one Ronan had tried to mimic unsuccessfully for a few confusing years of his life. 

 

He looked down at his empty coffee cup. God, he needed it badly. 

 

But now Adam was laughing. It irked Ronan, more than it probably should have.

 

He’d get coffee later.

 

* * *

 

 

_ February 2017 _

 

It was nearing 4PM, and the students who stayed after school seemed to have exhausted their ability to focus. Adam always stayed after school until four, making himself available to students for extra help, and he often had a steady stream of dedicated students who took him up on his offer.

 

Emily and Angel often came to his after hours. Part to study, but also part to flirt. (They might not have been aware of the latter fact quite yet, but these things took time. If he was a betting man, and if he had anyone to make a bet  _ with, _ Adam would say they’d be an item by Spring.) They’d gotten off-track and their conversation drifted to soccer.

 

“You should come watch me sometime,” Angel said. 

 

“I don’t know anything about soccer.”

 

“That’s okay. You can come for the view alone.” At this, Angel mock-flexed. It made Emily giggle, which in turn made it impossible for Adam to not roll his eyes behind his computer screen. 

 

Angel was sixteen, and wiry as hell, so he wasn’t sure why he went with  _ flexing _ . And Adam was allowed to be judgemental because he, too, was still wiry, even at 28. You only pulled that move if you were actually built. Men like Lynch. Or that SPED teacher with the surprisingly bulky arms considering his relatively small frame.

 

Not that he was checking out the SPED teacher.

 

“You should come anyway. At the very least, you might get a glimpse of Mr. Lynch yelling at parents.”

 

“What?”

 

This outburst actually came from Adam, and he didn’t even realize he did it at first. But Emily and Angel were staring at him, in a way that teens often did without realizing it - absolutely judgemental and yet somehow still endearing - so he knew it came from him.

 

Adam cleared his throat. He debated playing it off with some sort of comment that chastised them for their talking, but his curiosity won. Instead, he compromised by acting as if he merely wanted to criticize Lynch.

 

“He knows better than to yell at parents,” Adam said.

 

“Not  _ our _ parents,” Angel said, as if that somehow made it better. “Parents of the other team. They were calling us ‘thugs’ and saying we weren’t playing fair, and next thing you know, Mr. Lynch is yelling at them to take their racist crap elsewhere. It was pretty fu-- uhh, pretty cool.”

 

“And they didn’t kick him out?” Adam asked.

 

“Oh, they definitely did. But he was at the next game, as always.”

 

“That’s nice that he comes,” Emily said. 

 

“Yeah. If only my  _ favorite _ teacher showed up. With orange slices. Or Takis.” Angel sent Adam a pointed look. Then his eyebrows waggled. 

 

“Ha.” Adam went back to his computer. “How come I’m only your favorite if Takis are involved?”

 

Emily whispered something to Angel that he couldn’t catch. Angel whispered back. She giggled. Angel tugged her pony-tail.

 

Adam sighed.

 

Teens.

 

* * *

 

 

_ March 2017 _

 

Ronan wasn’t one to go to Union meetings, but apparently they’d successfully negotiated a raise for all teachers next year, which deserved a little appreciation. Every meeting was held in the rival high school’s gym. Despite being swankier than Aglionby’s gym, it still stank of too many bodies, hot air, and the tears of dodgeball games gone bad.

 

He walked through the doors at the exact same time as Adam Parrish. Their eyes met. They stopped.

 

Fuck.

 

“Oh,” Adam said. “Hey.”

 

God. Ronan didn’t want to run into anybody he knew. Union meetings were bad enough as it was; add in awkward, forced conversation with your colleagues? No thank you.

 

Unfortunately, there were unsaid rules about this. You were supposed to sit with your fellow teachers. 

 

Ronan jerked his head to the upper bleachers in greeting. Adam shrugged in acceptance.

 

This was going to be rough.

 

Adam went the predictable: “How was school today?”

 

Predictable wasn’t necessarily bad, though. A small perk to teaching was that it allowed for endless stories. It was practically a party trick.  _ Room full of your brother’s boring business bros? Look no further! Simply add a Ronan Lynch and program him how you see fit! Sad sob stories? Check! Ridiculous antics of children? Absolutely! Prom proposals gone bad? You betcha! Act now and he might even throw in a few horrifying tales of woodshop machinery gone bad. _

 

“The usual,” Ronan muttered. He shifted down the bleachers as more teachers joined their row. 

“Didn’t enjoy that mass, all-staff email thread arguing whether it’s okay to let students skip gym or not.”

 

“Why not? Gym is extremely valuable to their academic journey, Lynch.”

 

Ronan’s eyes slid carefully over Adam. When the man’s lips twitched at the corner, Ronan realized he was joking. Adam’s sarcasm was almost too subtle; he’d have to remember that.

 

Ronan was pleased. 

 

“Careful, Parrish. You’re in a room full of teachers. Some of them are bound to teach PE. They might do more than send passive aggressive emails.”

 

“You’ll just have to defend me, I guess.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

Adam shrugged. His eyes were stuck on the gym floor. The meeting had just started, not that it mattered. No one really paid attention to the meetings, not until they said the shit people wanted to hear. 

 

“I’m the science geek,” Adam eventually said. “You’re basically the jock. If we get into trouble you’re our best bet.”

 

Oh. Right. Maybe Adam wasn’t flirting, maybe it was all just simple teacher talk. Still, he could have a little fun. “Who says I’m going to defend your honor?”

 

Adam turned to him for a second, eyes flicking across his body. If they were anywhere but a gym, he might think Adam was checking him out. Ronan didn’t know how he felt about his wishful thinking; sure, Parrish was attractive, but he knew better than to chase after straight men.

 

More teachers were climbing up the stands. Just his luck they chose his row, which meant everyone had to squeeze together. Nothing like two bodies being shoved up against each other to turn an already awkward situation into something maddening. 

 

Adam cleared his throat. “What are the kids building right now?”

 

“Birdhouses.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“I’m kidding,” Ronan said quickly. “We don’t-- No one actually builds birdhouses. Well, maybe in middle school. They’re working together to improve some of the local parks and churches, making raised planters, benches and tables, shit like that. I let them do the planning.”

 

A small, surprised smile slipped onto Adam’s face. “That’s-- really cool. The parks here could use it. I didn’t realize that’s what they did in Woodshop.”

 

Ronan rubbed the back of his neck, inadvertently elbowing the teacher neck to him. “Yeah, well. I like making them do projects. That’s how I got into woodworking. I made shit for the family farm and it was nice to actually accomplish something. Making kitschy shit -- well. That’s not woodworking.”

 

Adam’s lips twisted to the side in a wry grin, but he covered it quickly by turning back to the main stage. And just like that it seemed their conversation was over.

 

Ronan tried not to feel disappointed.

 

He also tried to think of something else to say but came up empty. Ronan didn’t believe in talking without a purpose, and somehow engaging in pointless small-talk just because the other partner was attractive didn’t seem like the best reason.

 

Eventually the meeting finished. People began to file out of the gym and Ronan audibly sighed when the press of Adam’s thigh left his.

 

“Right?”

 

Ronan supposed Adam thought his sigh was a comment on the length of the meeting, or the fact that it was finally over.  _ No, _ Ronan thought.  _ I’m just too fucking starved for attention. _

 

Their cars were parked in the same area. They walked mostly in silence, Adam with his hands in his pockets and shoulders hunched, while Ronan drummed his fingers rapidly at the top of his head. He wanted to say something to Adam. Something decidedly not stupid. Or  _ pointless. _

 

“Can’t believe we’re actually getting a raise,” Adam said.

 

Damn. Why didn’t Ronan go with  _ that _ line of conversation? If he had  _ started _ the conversation, surely Adam would have thought of something to say back that was wittier than what Ronan landed with: a simple hum of agreement.

 

“Well. Goodnight Lynch.” Adam veered suddenly to the right, probably to where his car was. 

 

Fuck. Ronan had the strangest urge to end the conversation on a more positive note. Or at least in a way that didn’t give Parrish the impression that Ronan had no interest in  _ further _ discussions. “Wait--”

 

Adam turned abruptly, just catching as Ronan’s hand dropped from its hanging position in the air. He tucked it into his back pocket quickly.

 

Wait. He still had nothing to say. Except--

 

The one thing he  _ didn’t _ want to talk about.

 

Adam blinked at him. Waiting. Ronan bit the skin at his thumb. He was going to form a callous. 

 

Adam looked down at the keys in his hand and spun them once, twice, then back at Ronan. His eyes darted to his car, then back to Ronan.

 

“Opal--” Ronan said finally. “I never-- I never thanked you.”

 

“I don’t deserve gratitude for it,” Adam said, without malice. It was simply a fact to him. 

 

“I know. But you… You didn’t actually  _ have _ to do anything. She didn’t say anything to you, so legally, you could have let it go. Or, fuck, I don’t know. You could have told anyone but you still told  _ me _ . I know I’m not a peach to work with.”

 

Adam raised one eyebrow. “A peach?”

 

“You know what I mean.” Ronan ran his palm down his face. “Just. She’s smart, but even worse, she’s tough. She wouldn’t have told anyone but me. So… thanks. For picking me.”

 

Adam’s bashful smile was such a look that Ronan immediately thought,  _ He’s straight, he’s straight, he’s straight.  _

 

Didn’t stop him from wanting Adam to look at him that way again, though.

 

* * *

 

 

_ April 2017 _

 

After the Union meeting, Adam didn’t see Ronan for several weeks. Except from across the gym during a pep assembly, but that didn’t count. Ronan was decked out in purple and black, Aglionby’s school colors. Adam was surprised; Lynch didn’t seem like the type to participate in spirit week, but he also didn’t seem like the type to attend after-school functions or soccer games. Adam never had the heart to dress up. He wanted the kids to take him seriously, and even more importantly, he wanted the other  _ teachers _ to take him seriously.

 

Or maybe it wasn’t that. Maybe it was that--

 

Well.

 

Maybe he didn’t want to stand out. For once in his life.

 

Adam didn’t know  _ why _ he wanted to see Lynch around the halls. It’s not like they were friends. They hardly even got along. The Union meeting was a fluke, not a standard. 

 

And yet, Adam found himself in the Electives building after school. He told himself the Staff bathrooms were better. Had it prepared on the tip of his tongue if anyone asked him.

 

If he just so  _ happened _ to run into Ronan, he’d also prepared a topic of conversation: Angel. And whether Lynch agreed that soccer seemed to be negatively impacting his grades. 

 

Unfortunately, Ronan had a visitor. It was the art teacher, Noah, and the conversation seemed stimulating based on Ronan’s easy grin and the way Noah’s hands were waving through the air. He slunk back, too busy convincing himself he wasn’t disappointed to notice Henry Cheng appearing on his left.

 

“Mr. Parrish!”

 

“Holy shit--”

 

“Oops, wrong side again. So sorry,” Cheng patted Adam on the shoulder. “You prepared for Challenge Day tomorrow?”

 

“I’m sorry?”

 

“Challenge Day!” Henry’s arms were up in the air. Vice Principals were always like this: far too enthusiastic, way too optimistic. (Probably because Henry’s paycheck was three times what Adam made.) Henry continued, practically buzzing. “For the workshop day tomorrow. Challenge Day is all about breaking down our walls and getting to know one another. We’re going to get vulnerable! We’re going to get intimate! We’re going to sob like babies!”

 

_ My God. _

 

Adam blanched.  _ You have a Masters degree, Adam. You can think of a lie. Think man, think! _

 

“You know, I have a doctor’s appointment scheduled for tomorrow. I planned to just use a sick day.” There. An uncreative lie, but believable. 

 

Henry’s face comically sagged.  _ “No!  _ You have to come!”

 

Adam shrugged his shoulders in lieu of an apology.

 

Henry’s eyes flit behind Adam. “Mr. Lynch, Mr. Czerny! Terrible news. I’m afraid Parrish won’t be joining us tomorrow. We’ll be one member short in our group.”

 

Adam didn’t dare turn around to look at Ronan. Instead, he cleared his throat and said, “Group?”

 

“Oh yes. The day starts as a big group, but we’ll be splitting into smaller groups. You were set to be in a group with me, Lynch, Czerny, and our two SPED teachers. Alas.”

 

Before Adam could react, Henry turned on his heel and swung his arm over Noah and Ronan’s shoulder, pulling them in the opposite direction and chattering away about Challenge Day. As Adam watched them leave, his stomach flipped.

 

_ Don’t be preposterous, _ he told himself.  _ Challenge Day sounds like a nightmare. You’re not going to do it just because you have a stupid work-crush on Lynch. He’s not  _ that _ cute. _

 

* * *

 

 

Ronan was accustomed to nightmares, but Challenge Day was something else. He was sitting in a circle in the freezing cold gym ( _Thank_ you _Government_ _for deciding teachers didn’t_ really _need heat on a Workshop day!)_ , as some cheesy motivational speaker told them impassioned stories about helping kids and stopping bullying and yadda yadda.

 

Look, it’s not that Ronan didn’t support the message. The problem was that EVERYBODY obviously supported the message. Did they  _ really _ need to spend part of what little budget they have on a glorified group-bonding session? And fuck, he had to do inventory on Woodshop supplies. Teacher Workshop days came so rarely, and he could have really used that 8 hours to prep.

 

On the brightside, he had a good view: Parrish was sitting to his left.

 

When Adam had first sat down next to him, Ronan had asked, “Thought you had an appointment?”

 

“Doctor canceled on me,” Adam muttered. “Didn’t want to waste the sick day…”

 

Ronan knew he shouldn’t flirt with Adam but it was like a scab he couldn’t resist picking. “Come on, Parrish. Admit it. You just wanted to hang out with me.”

 

The tips of Adam’s ears turned pink. “We’re not supposed to be talking, Lynch.”

 

Ronan huffed. Well, fine. He thought Adam wouldn’t mind a little whispered conversation. Most didn’t care at all. (In fact, teachers were notoriously awful about talking. For a group that spent 75% of their lives telling kids to stop talking, they spent a lot of time breaking that very rule.)

 

Parrish looked nice, though. Normally he wore the same outfit every day with little variation: a button-down shirt tucked into slacks, and a thin tie. Always darker shades, never prints. Now, that’s not to say he didn’t look fucking cute in that outfit, but he also looked fucking cute in jeans and a tee. It made him look more relaxed.

 

Apparently he still had that stick up his ass.

 

_ Yeah, _ Ronan thought bitterly.  _ Keep telling yourself that, Lynch, it’s makes it easier to swallow the whole straight thing. He’s boring. And lame.  _

 

As Henry promised, they split into a smaller group after the heartfelt speech had concluded. Henry pulled the six of them - who Ronan later knew to be Noah Czerny (art), Adam Parrish (science), Blue Sargent (SPED - Math), and Richard Gansey (SPED - Reading/Writing) - to a small corner of the gym and explained the directions.

 

They were required - God, it was all so fucking stupid and lame - to play a game called, “If you really knew me.” Each had two minutes to describe themselves, but the key was, they were supposed to get  _ deep _ and  _ intimate _ . 

 

Henry took a deep inhale in and said, quite somberly, “I shall go first. It is only fair, as your superior. I can’t expect you to let down your walls if I don’t do the same.”

 

Adam’s eyes flicked to Ronan’s and he sucked his lips into his mouth to stop a smile. Ronan wasn’t nearly as polite, and he grinned back at Adam.

 

To be fair to Henry, it was a pretty traumatic tale he shared. The kind of story that wouldn’t leave that inner circle, not because of mutual trust or companionship, but because even repeating it would leave the tongue raw.

 

Gansey went next. For two agonizing minutes all he talked about was history. Specifically this old, dead Welsh king. Blue clearly heard the story often as her eyes rolled to the top of her head instantly. Ronan even saw her mouth part of the speech.

 

Though it was against “the rules” to interrupt, Ronan couldn’t help it. He barked, “If you like history so much, why the fuck are you not a history teacher?”

 

_ “Ronan, this is a sacred space!” _

 

“Oh, well,” Gansey paused to push up his glasses. “It’s my ultimate goal, but I was having a lot of trouble finding a job. My professor recommended I get certified in Special Ed and work at a school until they have an opening.”

 

“Which is bullshit.” 

 

_ “Ms. Sargent. Sacred. Space.” _

 

“No, I’m sorry, but it is!” When Henry began to protest, Blue held up two fingers and said. “No, it’s my turn. Here we go. If you really knew me, you’d know how much Special Ed means to me. You’d know it wasn’t some  _ safety plan _ , or that it plays second fiddle to my actual dream. You’d know I worked my ass off in college so that I could support these kids the way they  _ deserve, _ and that I’m damn good at my job.”

 

Henry cleared his throat pointedly. Surprisingly, it was Gansey who gestured her for to continue.

 

“I know what teachers think of kids with special needs. I know you think they’re a hassle. I can tell by the way you never fill out their IEP forms, or go to any of their exit meetings, or,  _ hell, _ the fact that you never use any of the goddamn accomodations I spend  _ hours _ curating. It’s bullshit! Teachers get on their high-horses about protecting their students and doing their best for them, just apparently not when it’s Special Ed.” 

 

Blue angrily swiped at her eye. Fuck. Apparently she was worked up enough to cry. 

 

“I want to work with someone who  _ wants _ to be here. This job is so difficult and I need a partner. A teammate. Someone who will help me, not someone who will abandon me the first chance he gets.”

 

They all fell silent after that. Blue excused herself, rushing off to the bathroom, and left the rest of the men awkwardly silent in her wake. That is until Henry Cheng exhaled loud and slow, before throwing his hands in the air with glee.

 

“Oh, man! THIS is what I was waiting for. The walls are coming  _ down _ !” Henry clapped his hands together and said, “Alright! Who is next? Parrish?”

 

“I don’t have much to say,” Adam muttered. And then he proceeded to be true to his word. Apparently he was from a small town in Virginia. He got his Masters from Colombia. Had a dog. All this was said so quickly that he did it in less than thirty seconds.

 

At Henry’s command, they literally waited that entire rest of the minute and a half in silence.

 

Despite the fact that Parrish had, you know,  _ shared fucking nothing, _ Henry clasped his hands in his and said, “Thank you for sharing part of yourself with us.”

 

Noah went next. He mostly talked about his family - his sisters in particular. How he got into art and his favorite artists. Blue returned sometime near the end of his speech.

 

It left only Ronan. 

 

The truth was… he had a lot he could share. There was the whole gay thing. (He was out to his family, but definitely not at school.) And then there was the whole dead dad thing, but that was years ago. Anyway, he was coping fine. Sometimes he got a little too drunk and his brother seemed to think going to therapy would lessen that, but whatever. Teachers drank a lot, they even had stupid fucking memes about it, so did it really make a difference if his drinking was due to trauma?

 

So yeah. Ronan had a decent amount he could share. But he didn’t fucking  _ know _ these people. Yeah, Parrish was hot, but no amount of hotness could convince Ronan Lynch to open up.

 

So they sat in silence the entire two minutes.

 

Ronan hated Challenge Day.

 

* * *

 

 

Adam was really starting to regret canceling his doctor’s appointment. Well, okay. Canceling his fake doctor’s appointment. What had possessed him to go to this shit show? (Ronan Lynch.) It was one of his nightmares come to life: the idea that everyone he worked with might know all of his secrets. All of his past.

 

And for what? Ronan didn’t talk the entire fucking time. He just sat there, looking stoic and cool in his stupid, slouchy beanie and his leather jacket that wasn’t even that sexy.

 

They were all supposed to eat together for their lunch break but Adam couldn’t do it. He needed some time alone. 

 

He was eating his PB&J when Blue suddenly sat down next to him. They’d been talking more recently, ever since he’d gone to her for advice on one of their shared kids.

 

“This day sucks,” Blue muttered, ripping a bite from her own sandwich.

 

Adam clinked his sandwich against her’s in mock cheers.

 

“Adam, about what I said.” Blue looked down her lap and began to pick at her sandwich. “I lost my temper. Which doesn’t mean I regret what I said, but it means I wasn’t thinking as clearly as normal. And I wanted you to know that I don’t think of you as one of those teachers.”

 

“I could do more for my kids with special needs,” Adam admitted.

 

“Yeah, well, you do a lot more than most.” She stuck a piece of her ripped off sandwich in her mouth and shoved it to the side of her cheek. He could see the lump. “Well, Lynch isn’t too bad either, I guess.”

 

Adam resisted the urge to pry for more information on that. Challenge Day had reminded Adam of how much an ass Lynch was. Adam didn’t need to hear touching stories of Ronan’s dedication to his students to trick his brain. (The bright blue eyes were bad enough as it was.)

 

“I don’t want to go back in there,” Adam admitted.

 

“Same.”

 

“It’s really cheesy, right?” 

 

Blue hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe. I mean, I get why they want us to do this. It’s literally my job to teach kids the importance of learning to deal with their emotions, as to decrease stress and outbursts. So, I get it.”

 

“Then why don’t you want to go in?’

 

She snorted. 

 

“Just because I  _ understand _ it doesn’t mean I want to  _ do _ it.” Blue gave a stunning impersonation of a Mr. Yuck sticker. “I teach the youth to be open and honest with themselves  _ because _ I’m so terrible at it. By the time I learned all this shit I had already built up my bad habits. I want them to learn it while they’re young, while they still have a chance to grow up to be normal, functioning adults.”

 

Adam turned her words over. Cracked his knuckles. He wasn’t being facetious when he said, “Pretty sure being dysfunctional  _ is _ being a normal adult.”

 

“Then where do people like Gansey come from?” Blue scrunched up her nose. She probably meant it as a judgemental gesture, but it just made her look cute. “I swear, some people get all the luck. Rich, well-adjusted,  _ and _ stupidly handsome.”

 

At the latter statement she shot Adam a quick look - part apologetic, but with a hint of defiance. Then, as her eyebrow lifted, he realized she was challenging him, though he was unsure of what. Was she daring him to ask if she was crushing on Gansey, or did she want him to complain they were veering into “girl talk”?

 

He didn’t know how to win her game so Adam settled with being honest. 

 

“I know,” Adam said. “But on the bright side, Gansey is the type of handsome that is so stunningly attractive that he actually becomes  _ unattractive.  _ You know what I mean? _ ” _

 

Blue blinked at him. Oh. Maybe he read her wrong. He’d seen her wearing a rainbow t-shirt with the word “Equality” on it a few months back and had assumed she was at the least an ally, but maybe-- 

 

“God, you’re right,” Blue said, face breaking into a grin. “He’s the type of person you can’t even take seriously because they’re too perfect. I couldn’t put it into words, but that’s totally it.”

 

She teetered on the edge of honest and forced, and Adam knew her words were probably thrown out as a quick save. The first thing she thought of when her mind went blank upon realizing Adam was gay. ( _ Well, just wait ‘till I have to explain I’m actually bi, _ he thought. People were even weirder about that.) Still, it was the thought that counted, and he’d had much worse coming out conversations.

 

And hey. At least now he could say he opened up on Challenge Day and all that shit. 

 

* * *

 

 

God, Ronan loved Challenge Day.

 

Back up, rewind. 

 

Prior to lunch? Fuck that shit. Burn it to the ground. Emotions? Blech. Bonding? Absolutely not.  _ TALKING? _

 

And then, sometime after lunch and between the end of the day, Ronan took a complete 180. Despite the awful headache, Ronan cried the entire drive home, singing Sia at the top of his lungs. He didn’t even like her music. (Hell, he didn’t even think he  _ knew _ her music. He needed to stop chaperoning school dances.)

 

He couldn’t even explain why. The rationale side of him knew that it was all a little fake. That everything in the program was designed to manipulate your emotions. Right after lunch they placed everyone in a line and cued up this somber song on the piano, and one of the leaders instructed people to cross the line if they experienced various traumas. She’d narrate the instructions in this overdramatic, ridiculous voice and - like he said - it was all really fucking dumb!

 

But then everybody started crying. First Noah, then Henry. Gansey. Blue. (Adam never did, but he did participate in the activity, and that seemed something noteworthy.) And people were crossing that line like crazy and - well - fuck it! Cheng was right! There was something oddly inspiring about seeing people be so intimate.

 

And that fucking activity worked like a charm, because when they got back in their small groups, everyone opened up in some way. Blue didn’t know her father. Noah became an art teacher because, after being sexually abused when younger, his therapist suggested using art as an outlet and it stuck. Gansey had a near-death experience and still struggled with his PTSD, and he was absolutely terrified that he’d fuck up his first year of teaching. Adam said the least, technically, but his omission that he never planned to speak to his family again said volumes. 

 

Ronan told them about his father. How he still saw his body laying on the ground of their farm, bleeding out, whenever he shut his eyes. 

 

Being able to finally tell his story was not the part Ronan enjoyed. Spilling his secrets didn’t relieve him of the memories or take away the pain. But it was bigger than that, really. Bigger than just  _ him. _

 

He loved that day so intensely that he knew, undoubtedly, that he would grow to resent it. That he’d look back and feel embarrassed about it and try to pretend it wasn’t meaningful.

 

But it didn’t matter, really. Because in the end it was less about the day itself, so much as, that day, they went from being six people, to being GanseyRonanAdamNoahHenryBlue.

 

* * *

 

 

(And okay, it didn’t hurt that Adam squeezed his hand when they both crossed the line one time.)

 

(And then he hugged Ronan at the end of the day.)

 

* * *

 

 

_ May 2017 _

 

In an uncharacteristic move, as soon as the bell rung Adam packed up his things and taped a message to his door that read,  _ After-hours cancelled for today. _ He never,  _ ever _ cancelled his after-school sessions, but it was impossible to attend a soccer game without doing so. 

 

Angel had gotten an A on his recent test, a grade that he earned by sacrificing soccer practice for the entire week. It seemed only fitting that Adam go watch him play as a reward. (He also stopped by the local Hispanic market on his way to the stadium to buy a bag of Takis. God, he was turning soft.) 

 

Soccer games were held on the town’s major football field, leaving a huge expanse of bleacher seats for Adam to pick from. It wasn’t difficult to find where Ronan sat - his coworker was currently yelling at the Ref for a bad call - but Adam hesitated at the top of the stairs. 

 

_ You’re actually friends now, _ Adam reminded himself.  _ You’re allowed to sit with him. _

 

Which was true. The only perk to the horrible mess which was Challenge Day was that Adam had gained five new friends. They all hung out often (which was to say, maybe once every few weeks, as they were teachers. Free time was rare in itself, but free time  _ plus _ the energy to socialize was even rarer.) and had a group chat. 

 

Still, there were two problems.

 

The first was, despite being friends with everyone, Adam still didn’t feel like he had solid proof Ronan and  _ he _ were friends. Ronan hardly responded in the group chat and, even in person, never said much to Adam. 

 

The second problem was the stupid voice in Adam’s head that nagged,  _ You don’t want to be friends with him anyway. You want _ more.  _ And what makes you think that would ever happen? _

 

But both thoughts were pushed from his brain when Ronan suddenly turned around and, quite quickly, noticed Adam standing awkwardly at the top of the stands. Ronan motioned for him to come over. 

 

“Holy shit,” Ronan commented. “A rare, out-of-school Parrish sighting. I thought you had after-hours?”

 

Adam attempted a casual shrug. “Needed a break.”

 

“Well you came just in time. They’ve been behind the whole game, but Lowe and Brell just scored two in a row to tie it.”

 

Adam sat down next to Ronan, tucking his hands carefully into his jacket pockets so that he didn’t bump him. (Because apparently just barely brushing shoulders was the sort of shit that got Adam’s toes to curl. God, he really hoped this was all the effect of being surrounded by teenagers and their ridiculous crushes, and not a sign of his future dating endeavors.)

 

“I don’t know much about soccer. You’ll have to help me out.”

 

Ronan snorted. “Like I fucking know.”

 

Instinctively, Adam eyed the people in the row below. Were they parents? They looked like parents. Ronan and his fucking mouth.

 

“Angel says you go to all the games,” Adam countered.

 

“Ramirez or De La Cruz?”

 

“The one currently dancing in the goaltending box.”

 

Ronan squinted. “Oh, Angel Lopez. What the fuck is he doing…? Yeah, I come to most games, but I don’t know shit. I come because the kids like it. Makes them feel supported and shit.”

 

“Wow. If I nominate you for the staff Raven award, can I quote you on that? So elegant.”

 

“Yeah, well, I have a way with words,” Ronan muttered. 

 

Still, Ronan was twisting his lips in that way of his that often meant he was hiding a smile. Adam, feeling that  _ he _ couldn’t smile if Ronan didn’t, tucked his chin into the collar of his jacket and grinned. Maybe Ronan noticed; he certainly sat straighter. 

 

They drifted into silence, but a pleasant one. Adam liked this best about Ronan. True, it made him often doubt whether Ronan actually liked him, but Adam was never one for forced conversation. He didn’t need every moment to be filled with sound, especially not when there was plenty of teenagers shouting calls, whistles blowing, and parents cheering. 

 

Occasionally they’d talk, but mostly when Ronan made fun of the kids. He’d lean close to Adam, voice (thankfully) a shade lower than normal, and narrate his thoughts into Adam’s hearing ear. If overheard by anyone else, Ronan’s comments would seem entirely inappropriate.  _ Look at that little fucker. What is he doing with his feet? He looks like a goblin,  _ or,  _ I’m going to murder Wagner when I see him tomorrow. Look at that prick, staring at the cheerleaders and missing that pass. Don’t roll your eyes, I’m seriously going to murder him.  _

 

Somehow, though, every comment was laced with affection. And Adam knew it wasn’t that he was biased by Ronan’s pretty face; the students said similar things about Mr. Lynch and, in the same breath, often said he was one of their favorite teachers. Before Adam got to know him, Adam found it annoying. Ronan was supposed to be a professional, and yet the students would mention his penchant for cussing and insulting everyone. It seemed like a cheap trick to get kids to like him.

 

Now? Well. Adam sort of understood. It was just who Ronan was: a strange mixture of secrets and sincerity. Somehow Adam felt like he knew everything about Ronan and yet nothing at all. 

 

When Adam drove home from the game he felt light. As if he’d come from an evening of scintillating conversation, or like he’d gone on a date that went really well--

 

\--then, suddenly, he slapped his palm to his steering wheel with a curse. He'd just realized something.

 

He forgot to give Angel his Takis.

 


	2. Heart Open

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friends to lovers. Slow burn. Flirting galore.

_ May 2017 _

 

If you looked into Ronan’s brain, you might think he only thought of Adam. To be fair it  _ was _ a reoccuring theme:  _ Adam thought my joke was funny, Adam suggested we all get drinks after work on Friday, Adam has a freckle on the hollow of his throat, Adam-- _

 

But he did more than think about Adam. For instance, he often thought about his job. Despite becoming a teacher on a whim, he took it very seriously.

 

Case in point: during his planning period, without even being required to do so, he had sought out the SPED team to discuss a student he was concerned about.

 

He had hoped to find Blue, but it was Gansey who sat at the back table, looking frazzled. Which wasn’t anything new, but now Ronan knew how to spot it. It was normal to see Special Education teachers stressed, being that they, undoubtedly, had the hardest job in entire school. Blue carried her stress in obvious ways: as the week progressed her outfits became looser; instead of walking in the halls, you’d see her sprinting; her emails became shorter and shorter. 

 

You only knew Gansey was stressed if he became  _ more _ professional. Before Challenge Day, Ronan had assumed Gansey was your usual posh, rich kid with no personality. In reality, he was an utter dweeb. Just a giant nerd. But the minute he got overwhelmed he put up a mask. Became a robot.

 

“Well, hello there Mr. Lynch. What can I help you with?”

 

Ronan shut Gansey’s laptop and said, “Take a break, Dick.”

 

The smile on Gansey’s face showed no signs of cracking. His lips spread wider. Oh, God. It was worse than Ronan thought.

 

“I have to observe a kid this period so, unfortunately, I don’t have much time to talk--”

 

“Skip it.”

 

“I can’t, Blue--”

 

_ “Dick.” _

 

Finally, Gansey sighed. He pinched the bridge of his nose, then massaged his temples, before finally slumping in his seat. He was staring at his shoes - stupid white boat shoes, with a little charm of an anchor on them and everything.

 

“Is this about a student?” Ronan asked.

 

“No.”

 

“Parent?”

 

Gansey shook his head.

 

Well, that really left only one thing.

 

“Blue?”

 

Gansey winced. Bingo.

 

“It’s nothing,” Gansey said. “It’s not like-- Well, nothing even happened.”

 

It took a boring amount of time to drag the story out of Gansey. Truly, it wasn’t even a story. In typical fashion, Gansey was over analyzing a situation. Ever since Blue’s confession during Challenge Day, Gansey had been trying to repair their relationship any way he could. Unfortunately, it also made him extremely paranoid.

 

A few days ago, during a staff meeting, Blue called him “Mr. Gansey” and Gansey spent the rest of the day texting Adam about whether or not it meant he’d done something wrong and how best to apologize. 

 

(He had many absurd solutions, which was actually the reason Ronan knew this story at all. The text thread was so ridiculous that Adam immediately found Noah and Ronan. When he saw the messages, Noah clapped a hand to his cheek and said, “Well, bless his heart.”)

 

That day, Gansey had made the mistake of referring to a small group of students as a “recipe for disaster.”

 

Blue had taken offense at the phrase. “It’s a  _ recipe, _ Gansey. If it fails, it’s because the  _ cook  _ didn’t do his job.”

 

Gansey repeated her words with his hands covering his face. From beneath them he added, “She’s right, of course. I’m not saying she’s wrong, and honestly, I  _ prefer _ her to tell me these things. What if I had said that in front of a parent?”

 

“So why are you moping?”

 

Gansey spread his fingers so that Ronan could see exactly what he thought of his callous remarks.

 

“I just… I love my job. I do. And I genuinely love working with Blue. But sometimes it feels like I’m not allowed to complain about my job, not just around her but to anyone. I feel like I have to be understanding and patient and perfect, but, God, it’s…really hard.”

 

Ronan might be rough around the edges, but he wasn’t stupid. If he were talking to Adam he’d tell him to stop thinking so much or tell people to fuck off; Gansey, however, needed a softer approach. 

 

“Dick,” Ronan said, rubbing Gansey’s hair with the palm of his hand. His hair was so thick that it was fun to play with; Ronan liked to fluff it up so that Gansey resembled a Disney prince. “You have a hard job. You’re allowed to dislike it some days.”

 

“It’s not that I dislike it--”

 

“Dude. Come on. All teachers hate their jobs a little. It’s practically our  _ right. _ You can’t do this job and not hate it a little.” Ronan flicked Gansey in the forehead. “And never forget: tomorrow, some kid will tell you that you’re funny, or bring you an actual, real-fucking apple, and you’ll love it again. It’s how it works.”

 

Gansey didn’t seem convinced, but that was okay. Ronan remembered his first year of teaching - the constant doubts, the stress. And sure enough, as the year progressed, Gansey loosened up inch by inch, until he was only sometimes a massive ball of stress.

 

Although he never quite figured out how to not put his foot in his mouth around Blue. 

 

* * *

 

 

_ June 2017 _

 

_ happy hour after work? cheng says he will buy. the fool.  _

 

Adam resisted the urge to immediately respond to Ronan’s email. Aside from having the feeling it would reek of desperation, he also didn’t want to set the standard that he actually had time to check his email during classes. (A personal pet peeve of his, perhaps only second to the fact that they required he stand outside his door before the start of each period for security reasons, but always chose to call his phone during said breaks.) 

 

So, during his planning period, he sent back:

 

_ Ronan,  _

 

_ Do you think his offer includes food?  _

 

_ Best, _

_ Adam Parrish _

_ Chemistry _

_ A216 _

 

It was simple message. Direct and void of obvious flirtation. Perfect.

 

Almost instantly, he got a response from Ronan that said,  _ if he doesn’t, just ask him how much he makes with those big doe eyes of yours and kapow. endless zza.  _

 

Adam couldn’t help it; he broke his rule the moment he saw the horrific abbreviation.

 

_ Ronan, _

 

_First: I’m too young to whine about how writing isn’t what it used to be, but I swear, your emails make me wish this advanced technology was never created because it’s not possible to burn an email._ Zaa? Really? _I’ve never heard a single teenager say that._

 

_ Second: you’re horrible, but we already knew that. _

 

_ Third: I’ve had a rough day. So yes, I’ll come to happy hour. _

 

_ Best, _

_ Adam _

 

Happy Hour with the gang was increasingly becoming more and more of a habit. Adam had a strict policy against developing unhealthy vices - a fact that Ronan found unfathomable, considering their profession - but he figured the occasional $15 spent on a few appetizers with friends was hardly  _ unhealthy. _ His therapist would probably argue it was good for him.

 

Blue’s wine cup was empty when Adam arrived, but the stain on her bottom lip told him it wasn’t due to a negligent waiter. They exchanged a quick look - the patented,  _ Rough day, huh? _ expression that every teacher perfected within their first week. Gansey appeared a few seconds later with a glass of his own wine, but as soon as the stem hit the table, Blue stole it. (In response, Gansey merely sighed and turned to go back to the bar.)

 

The rest of the group filtered in slowly, though Ronan took a maddingly long time to arrive. Adam forced himself to enjoy everyone’s company, reminding himself he didn’t come to these gatherings solely to see Ronan.

 

Though he made sure the last open seat was the one next to him.

 

As it normally did, Happy Hour quickly turned into a bitch session. Ronan arrived midway into Blue’s rant about one of her students. “--I’m really trying to help this kid, but I swear, he’s just-- He’s self-sabotaging, really. He made a joke about  _ shooting up the school _ . Who does that?”

 

“Teenagers,” Noah and Henry said in unison. Henry looked delighted at the coincidence and pinched Noah’s cheek. (Buzzed. Definitely buzzed.)

 

“If it helps, today one of my student’s accused me of giving him an ‘F.’ He’s literally done nothing but play  _ Fortnite _ on his phone for the past two weeks.” Adam leaned forward to grab another slice of pizza. Ronan took advantage of the opportunity to swing his arm behind Adam to gesture for the waiter’s attention. “He argued with me for  _ ten _ minutes before I finally kicked him out.”

 

The waiter had seen Ronan, and yet he dropped his arm along the back of Adam’s chair and let it linger. Adam’s brain immediately froze. Should he lean back? Ronan’s arm would be so close. Would people notice? Would Ronan find it weird?

 

No one seemed to be paying any attention. Noah was sharing his own ridiculous-moment-of-the-day story, and he was such the story-teller that everyone was enthralled by him.

 

Adam tested the water. He leaned back, ever so slow, until he was fully relaxed into the chair. He could feel the rough of Ronan’s sleeve on his neck and it caused a rush of goosebumps to slide up his arms.

 

This was really fucking dumb. It was just  _ Ronan. _ Stupid, attractive Ronan. 

 

Maybe he just needed to be laid. It had been awhile. Dating was hard when your bedtime was 9PM and the rest of your free time was dedicated to grading.

 

Yeah, that was it. 

 

Suddenly, Ronan’s shifted so that his arm was actually draped  _ over _ Adam’s shoulders. Thankfully, what followed was such an absurd statement by Ronan that no one seemed to notice the fact that the touch made Adam sit straight.

 

“One day, I’m just going to do it. I’m going to tell a kid to just shut the fuck up,” Ronan said.

 

God. Adam could feel his breath against his neck. This had to be obvious to everyone else, right? They were all looking at him. Or maybe they were looking at Ronan. It was hard to tell. 

 

_ “Ronan,”  _ Gansey said.

 

“What? It’s the  _ dream. _ ” Ronan was tugging on the strings of Adam’s hoodie. Adam made a conscious effort to breathe through his nose slow and steady. “Don’t pretend you don’t want to say it. Even Parrish said he wants to.”

 

Henry placed his hand against his heart and gasped. Blue sent Ronan a look that, to those who didn’t know her, would wreak of disapproval. (By now, Adam had learned that the pissier she looked, the less angry she actually was. It was the cool, aloof Blue that you needed to fear.)

 

Suddenly, Adam realized everyone was staring at him. Undoubtedly this time. He cleared his throat and sipped his water, hoping it would buy him time to piece together a response. When he continued his silence, Blue’s eyes narrowed.

 

No, no, no, no, no.

 

“I didn’t say that,” Adam said finally. 

 

Ronan released his arm - and it was the best example of catch-22 that Adam had ever experienced in his life - and turned to gasp dramatically at him.

 

“The soccer game. Last Tuesday, against Mountainview. You said that your one student - who shall remain nameless because we’re in public, and I follow the god-damn rules--” to this Ronan saluted Henry, who winked back in approval. “--anyway, you know the kid, Asshat #5. You said he was being a smart-ass and that you wished, just once, you could tell him to shut the fuck up.”

 

Oh, God. Adam  _ did _ say that. It was semi-true - a rant shared after a particularly bad day, a day so bad that his patience was worn too thin - but Adam also knew, shamefully, that it had been a stupid way to try and impress Ronan. The other teacher was always talking big and, in a moment of weakness, Adam had stooped to his level.

 

“Okay. I… maybe said that,” Adam admitted. “But I would never  _ do _ it.”

 

“No duh. That’s why I said it’s the  _ dream. _ ”

 

Surprisingly, the only comment anyone had to say was Blue asking, “Since when do you go to soccer games?”

 

“Uh-- Just recently. I don’t know. They’re fun.”

 

Blue picked a pepperoni off of Gansey’s pizza and hummed as she chewed it, looking at Adam carefully. Adam tugged at the collar of his shirt and said, “I’m trying to support the students more.”

 

“Also,  _ someone _ has to keep Ronan in line,” Noah added. It earned him a crumpled napkin to the head. “Not cool. That was all over your greasy lips, Lynch.”

 

The conversation, thankfully, moved on from there, and Adam managed to avoid any further embarrassments or slip-ups the rest of the evening. But when it was time to leave, however, Adam felt Blue’s eyes on him as Ronan said goodbye with an affectionate mess of Adam’s hair. 

 

When he caught her eye, she raised one eyebrow.

 

Adam sighed.

 

He was really starting to regret telling her he was bi.

 

* * *

 

 

_ July 2017 _

 

Every year, Ronan told himself he’d do something exciting for summer vacation. 

 

Go out of the country.

 

Take his kid brother on a road trip around the South.

 

At the very least, build a new barn or something.

 

He did none of these things. Instead, he spent his summer as always: recovering from the intensity of the year by watching endless reruns of Golden Girls, eating too much delivery food, and occasionally calling up his friends.

 

Everyone came over for the Fourth of July. It was painfully simple but exactly what Ronan wanted: Gansey brought wine and everyone booed until he returned with beer; Noah challenged Henry to a hotdog eating contest and they both spent the rest of the day laying on the grass, stomachs up, moaning; Blue had somehow procured illegal fireworks and the two of them took turns lighting up the sky. 

 

And Adam was around, not always by his side by close enough that Ronan could sneak glances whenever he wanted, and he looked loose and happy.

 

At the end of the night they sat around a bonfire. Noah and Henry had wandered off to do God knows what. When Blue had to use the bathroom, Gansey offered to accompany her to the bathroom, which was quite a walk from where they had built a fire, leaving Ronan alone with Adam for the first time all day.

 

Ronan poked the fire, rearranging the logs so that it could breathe, and asked, “Uh, doing anything the rest of summer?”

 

Adam leveled his gaze at him. It obviously said,  _ What do you think? _ so Ronan tossed a marshmallow at his face to counter the attitude. “Dude. You’ve gotta’ be doing  _ something _ .”

 

“You’re right. How could I forget? I’m planning to redo some of my curriculum. God, stop throwing marshmallows!”

 

“You’re supposed to catch them with your mouth, dumbass.” 

 

Based on the expression Adam gave him it was obvious he didn’t believe Ronan’s excuse. Nevertheless, he played along with the game. Adam didn’t gift his smile often - and he wasn’t really smiling now - but there was something about the way he acted instantly, no questions asked, that made his feelings clear. Plus, Adam never did anything he didn’t want to do. 

 

Maybe it was this easiness that gave Ronan the courage. 

 

“We should hang out again sometime,” Ronan said. “Before school starts back up.”

 

“Shit. Almost had that one. Sure. What do you have in mind?”

 

Ronan paused his assault on Adam’s mouth to consider. (And then paused to criticize himself for referring to it that way, if only because it led to a brief but vivid fantasy, and the fire was already too romantic. At least it was dark.) 

 

“Something crazy. Break into a bank. Hijack a yacht.”

 

“Your idea of hanging out sure seems like starting a life of crime.”

 

“We’re teachers. They’d never expect it.”

 

“We’re teachers. They’d  _ definitely _ expect it. We need the money.”

 

Ronan could hear his front door shut from in the distant. Blue and Gansey. He leaned forward to stare into the fire, too shy to look Adam in the eyes.

 

“I’m serious. We should hang out again.”

 

Adam was looking at him. He could feel it. The sound of the fire cracking in the still of the night was usually welcome to Ronan - the kind of sound that filled you up like air after a difficult run - but now he hated it. 

 

“Sure.”

 

Ronan looked up at Adam. The other man had a barely there smile, but it felt like a beacon of light.

 

Maybe Adam didn’t smile often, when he did, it was something rare and real that Ronan craved.

 

Ronan wanted to set an exact date. Put it on the calendar so he’d have something to look forward to instead of the endless, dragging days of summer. 

 

Instead, he was interrupted by the return of his friends. Blue flung herself into the lawn chair, huffing about the long trek from the bonfire to the house. Adam handed Gansey the beer he’d been holding for him.  _ Go away, _ he thought.  _ I’m in the middle of asking Adam out.  _

 

“So,” Adam said to the group. “Ronan says we should put another date on the calendar. What works for you all?”

 

Wait. 

 

We?

 

_ You all? _

 

“I’m visiting my parents for a week, but I’ll be back from DC by July 15th. Anytime after that I’m free.”

 

Ronan shoved his palms into his eyes as his friends continued to make plans.

 

_ Fuck. _

 

So much for asking Adam out.

 

* * *

 

 

_ October 2017 _

 

Adam caught Ronan sliding down the rail of a staircase in the A building before school started. And by  _ caught _ , he actually meant Ronan tumbled into him as Adam rounded the corner.

 

“Oops,” was Ronan’s form of an apology. Not that it mattered. Ronan’s strong grip at his shoulders and the press of his chest to his was enough to temporarily short-circuit Adam’s brain. Ronan could have said he ate shit and Adam would have nodded along dumbly. 

 

Adam didn’t find his words until Ronan stepped back. “Do I need to write you up for running in the halls?”

 

“Snitches get stitches, Parrish, didn’t you know that? Anyway, I wasn’t running. I was  _ flying.” _

 

“Less dramatic flair, more explanation, please.”

 

Ronan jumped up the concrete stairs and made it to the top in no time, his long legs able to jump three steps at a time. Quickly, he jumped so that his ass hit the rail and began to slide down. Before he made it to the end, however, Ronan twisted his body so that he tumbled over the edge of the wall and landed, mighty ungracefully, in a heap on the second step of stairs.

 

Adam slowly clapped his hands. 

 

“It’s a work in progress.”

 

“I wouldn’t hold out for an ‘A’ if I were you.”

 

“If Xochi can do it, then I can do it.”

 

“Xochi probably weighs 100 pounds. I don’t think you need to be a science teacher to know the physics isn’t the same for you and her.”

 

Ronan grinned up at Adam, still seated in a bundle of limbs on the stairs. It wasn’t until Ronan’s eyes slid to the top of the stairs did Adam realize he’d set himself up.

 

“You can’t be more than 100. You do it.”

 

“Har har.”

 

“What? You  _ scared?” _

 

“Nope. But I’m also not a teenager, so peer pressure doesn’t work on me.”

 

Ronan batted his eyelashes.

 

“Nor will flattery.”

 

“I’ll catch you if you fall,” Ronan offered.

 

Adam allowed himself approximately 5 seconds to fantasize that very scenario. Ronan, whose arms were one of Adam’s favorite things to oogle, picking Adam up like it was nothing. But, unless Adam was being dumped into a bed, being picked up meant little to him. 

 

“Hard pass.”

 

Ronan whined. Literally.

 

“If I do it, what do I get? Drinks?” Adam consciously looked away from Ronan, toward the open hallway, hoping it conveyed an air of nonchalance. “Buy me a beer after work today and I will.”

 

Ronan’s expression was hard to read. Was he curious? Upset? Did he pay enough attention to their group gatherings to know Adam didn’t really even drink?

 

A moment later, however, Ronan bit at his thumb and said, “Can’t. Today at least. Got GSA.”

 

“You go to the Gay Straight Alliance club?”

 

“It’s my club.” Ronan’s eyes were very shifty as he said it. 

 

The surprised, “Oh” that popped from Adam’s lips echoed in the empty hall. There was a long, lingering pause while both of them surveyed each other, Adam perplexed in thought and Ronan already throwing up his defenses. Adam felt a little bad - Ronan probably thought his surprise came from judgement.

 

That wasn’t it at all.

 

Rather, for moment, Adam wondered whether this meant something. Maybe it was his hopes talking, but most teachers didn’t volunteer to start a club unless they an interest in it, or an attachment. Of course Ronan’s interest didn’t necessarily mean he was queer - maybe he had a sibling, or a friend, and it was simply on his radar - but it made Adam reassess his perception of the grumpy man.

 

He thought, briefly, of just casually throwing it out there that he was bi. 

 

But if he was  _ wrong _ about Ronan, then it could ruin everything. Right now, he liked getting to enjoy Ronan’s beauty without the man realizing. (Or, God forbid, straight-boy-panicking.) Surely Ronan would notice Adam’s lingering gaze and affinity for touching if he admitted he was bi. Why screw that up? Because it’s not like he actually  _ liked _ \-- It was just a physical thing-- Really, it was just-- 

 

It came down to the fact that Ronan was one of the only attractive, single people at the school. That was all. 

 

So why bother telling Ronan? 

 

He maintained this delusion until he was eating lunch with Blue and Henry in the latter’s office a week later. Henry, who’d been seeing a woman for the past month, was complaining that she was jealous of his “overly friendly” (her quotation marks, not his) friendship with Noah.

 

“I’ve explained he’s just my work husband, but she says it’s still inappropriate.”

 

Adam speared a fork into his lasagna. “What’s a work husband?”

 

It was not possible for a human being to roll their eyes harder than Henry. Blue held up her hand to silence the incoming rant, turned back to Adam, and said, “Oh, sweet, sweet Adam. It’s when you have a pretend relationship with someone you work with, just for fun.”

 

“Oh, like a work crush.” Adam turned back to his food. Preposterous. Why was this a big deal? “It’s fine, Henry. I get those all the time. They’re meaningless.”

 

Blue and Henry exchanged a  _ very _ pointed look. Adam threw his fork into his tupperware and said,  _ “What?” _

 

_ “Meaningless, _ Adam?  _ Really? _ ” Henry waggled his eyebrows. “You’re trying to tell us that your little work crush is  _ meaningless?” _

 

Ever in denial, Adam said, “I mean, yeah. Not that I even have one at the moment. Just, like, in the past.”

 

Blue placed her hand on her chest and said, “Bless his heart.”

 

_ “What?” _

 

“You and Ronan are like, the epitome of work husbands,” Henry said quickly, obviously sensing Adam’s rising temper and not wanting to risk it. “And it hardly seems meaningless.”

 

Adam didn’t blush when he got embarrassed, not really. Instead, he developed an itch at the base of his back that would only sooth if he twisted it. “No, we’re not.”

 

Blue gave him a thumbs up and nodded vigorously. In an extremely exaggerated tone she said, “Okay, sure.”

 

“We’re  _ not!” _

 

“Now, Blue, Adam is actually right. They’re not work husbands.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“They’re work  _ boyfriends.” _

 

“Oh, my God.”

 

When they started to make fake kissing noises, Adam left Henry’s office to eat his meal in peace. Unfortunately, they’re stupid teasing stuck in his brain all day. 

 

Fuck.

 

Did he have a crush on Ronan? An  _ actual _ crush?

 

* * *

 

 

(Two days later Ronan sent him an email that simply said,  _ i have convinced Dick that there is a hidden pool somewhere in the school. the rest is up to you. _ )

 

(Adam found himself grinning at his computer screen and then promptly realized what he was doing.)

 

(So...)

 

(Yes.)

 

(The answer was yes.)

 

(He did have a crush on Ronan.)

 

* * *

 

 

_ December 2017 _

 

At the holiday Christmas party, Ronan was standing near Adam when he overheard a conversation that piqued his interest.

 

Adam and a few other teachers were discussing some television show that was out. Ronan didn’t give a flying fuck about it - which was why he was a few feet away, so that he didn’t have to participate but he could still admire Adam in his “ugly” Christmas sweater that was far too snug to be given that title - but then the conversation turned to the romance. Or something. 

 

He wasn’t exactly sure, all he knew was that suddenly Adam said, “Just because he’s dating a woman doesn’t mean he’s straight. He could be bi.” 

 

Ronan couldn’t help it; his head snapped to look at Adam.

 

Straight people didn’t think about that kind of thing. In his experience, people who tended to bring up being bi…  _ were _ bi.

 

_ Don’t jump the gun, _ he told himself. It could be nothing; Adam could still be straight. Or even if he wasn’t, it didn’t mean he’d want  _ Ronan. _ He had to stop it. Thinking he had even the  _ slightest _ chance with Adam might propel his stupid feelings into something downright dangerous. 

 

Still, he found opportunities throughout the party to linger next to Adam. Maybe it was the spiked eggnog, brought by Henry so no one felt shy drinking in front of their bosses, loosening his tongue.

 

He’d find him in a corner and whisper,  _ Last Christmas party Henry got so drunk he started dancing with the other admins.  _ He’d point out Gansey and Blue, looking tense on the couch, and felt his heart swell when, instinctively, Adam began to dub their conversation. 

 

After another cup of eggnog, Ronan felt daring enough to lean in, lips close to Adam’s ear. He allowed himself the fantasy that Adam liked it; that the feel of his breath would start a shiver down Adam’s back, send a wave of heat down and down. Fantasized that, when Adam turned to look at him, he’d look down at Ronan’s lips and want to trace them with his fingertips. That Ronan could pull Adam away from the party, away from this suburban house, park somewhere off the side of the road and tug his sweater to the side and drag his lips against the jut of Adam’s collarbone and  _ suck-- _

 

“Lynch? You there?”

 

They were at the party. They were standing in the entrance of the kitchen.

 

God, he was drunk. 

 

Luckily, this was nothing new to Ronan, and he was experienced enough to not do anything crazy. He blinked, sucked in a smoker’s breath, and looked around. He couldn’t stop thinking about kissing. 

 

He hoped he wasn’t obvious when he said, “In movies, there’s always mistletoe at Christmas parties. But have you ever actually  _ seen _ it in real life?”

 

Adam’s eyes drifted above them instinctively, not that there was anything to see. After a moment he said, “Actually, no. I don’t think I have.”

 

“Where does that cliche come from?”

 

“Maybe you just don’t go to the right parties,” Adam mused. He tilted his head toward the direction of the room. “No sense in including mistletoe when 95% of the staff is married and with kids.”

 

“Not you, though.”

 

_ Desperate. Stupid.  _

 

Adam looked at him curiously. “True.”

 

“Not me either,” Ronan added quickly.

 

_ Foolish. Dangerous. _

 

Adam’s lips slid into a smile. If Ronan were not drunk, he’d call it a sweet smile; almost delirious.

 

It was probably good that Noah interrupted them before Ronan could make a bigger fool of himself.

 

* * *

 

 

_ January 2018 _

 

Using the school email for personal emails was not wise. Technically, any parent could request the right to look at your emails. It was generally understood that you should not leave a paper trail of anything less-than-perfect.

 

Ronan Lynch did not seem to care.

 

_ Parrish -- _

_ was it just me or did you get an email from Penis Three saying he volunteered to chaperone winter formal and thinks we should join? the fuck? he knows what the kids do at these things right?  _

 

Adam sighed so heavily that several kids looked up at him from taking their test. In a panic he shot them a dirty look and mouthed,  _ “Eyes on your paper.” _ (At least it was a testament to his behavior management that, instead of questioning him, the student look terrified.)

 

Adam began his reply.

 

_ Hello Ronan, _

 

_ First of all, we use Outlook. It automatically capitalizes the first word in a sentence, so the fact that yours are  _ not _ does not convey the lack of care you think it does. _

 

_ Second, and more importantly, must I remind you that these type of conversations should not be written over work email? _

 

_ Best, _

_ Adam Parrish _

_ Chemistry _

_ A216 _

 

Within seconds Adam received a reply. It was an image of a hand with the middle finger up. Underneath it, Ronan had written,  _ Fuck the man!  _ (At least he had left it capitalized.)

 

Adam resigned himself to the inevitable.

 

_ Ronan, _

 

_ Let the record show that I tried to reason with him, Principal Johnson, if you are reading this. _

 

_ Yes, he asked me if I’d be interested in chaperoning. Said he’s never done it before. He was very enthusiastic about the concept. Thought it would be “charming” to see the kids all dressed up and dancing. I didn’t have the heart to tell him the reality. _

 

_ Best, _

_ Adam Parrish _

_ Chemistry _

_ A216 _

 

Ronan didn’t respond as fast this time. It was nearly the end of the period when he got a response, though all it said was,  _ damn, he out-Ganseyed himself. so, does this mean you’re not doing it? _

 

Adam let time linger before he responded, wanting to give Ronan a taste of his own medicine. (Nevermind that Ronan probably had no idea that he was torturing Adam.) Also, he was a bit embarrassed. His response, though he kept it brief, felt a little too...juvenile. It had an air of,  _ Do you like me? Check yes or no or maybe, _ to it.

 

_ Ronan, _

 

_ I don’t know. Are you? _

 

_ Best, _

_ Adam Parrish _

_ Chemistry _

_ A216 _

 

Ronan delivered his response in person, sauntering into his room at the end of the day. Ronan took his time getting to his answer, of course, spinning some beakers on their sides and trying on goggles. A couple of Adam’s students stared at Ronan with looks of fearful fascination. (Clearly not students as his, as most figured out the rumors of Mr. Lynch being a badass were highly exaggerated within one week of taking his class.)

 

“Can I help you, Mr. Lynch?”

 

Ronan cleared his throat. “I was checking to see if Czerny was here. Said he was looking for you.”

 

“You had to come all the way inside to know for sure?” Adam gestured to the empty classroom.  

 

“It’s good to be careful. Anyway, who knows what you’re teaching this kids. Perhaps you’ve had them engineer a potion that rendered him incorporeal.” 

 

Ronan bent over and leaned his crossed his arms on Adam’s desk. Adam most definitely did  _ not _ use it as an opportunity to check out his ass. Instead, he kept his eyes firmly planted on Ronan’s face as he remarked, “I’m going to go right ahead and blow past the obvious and instead ask: did you really just refer to solutions as  _ potions?” _

 

“Is that not what you teach them to do?”   
  


Despite having such sharp features, Ronan had the shocking ability to morph his face into the world’s most angelic look sometimes. Adam was fairly certain he was the only person to receive such looks, though. Ronan learned early on that Adam could not be intimidated by narrowed eyes or snarled lips. 

 

“Is this revenge for asking if you teach kids how to build birdhouses?”

 

The innocent look melted from Ronan’s lips and was replaced by an unholy grin. Adam took that as confirmation.

 

As much as he enjoyed the casual flirting, Adam had tests to grade. He didn’t feel like being the prey today, though. Knowing Ronan would bite, Adam turned back to his computer and pretended to check his email.

 

Sure enough, Ronan said, “Dances are lame.”

 

“Uh huh.”  _ Click click click.  _

 

“It’s not like we get paid extra.”

 

“True.” He was literally clicking random words into Google.

 

From the corner of his eye, Adam saw Ronan turn his back to him. He was stretching one arm to the side, probably giving an excellent view of Ronan’s bicep.  _ Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look. _

 

“Could be fun to see how Gansey takes it.”

 

Finally, Adam paused his typing. If his chair didn’t have that nasty squeal, he’d turn it fractionally toward Ronan to get a better view. 

 

“Do you think he’d dress up?” 

 

Ronan scoffed. “Undoubtedly. He looks like the type of guy who’d own a bowtie.”

 

“God, can you imagine him trying to enforce the rules? How do you think he’d handle students bumping and grinding?” Adam asked. 

 

He heard his students giggle. Fuck. Adam forgot they were there. Both students were looking at Ronan and Adam, so they were clearly laughing  _ at _ them. (He hoped it was because he used an outdated term for dancing and not because his flirting was obvious. Or, worse, that his flirting was  _ bad _ .) 

 

Ronan lowered his voice. “I’ll go if you go.”

 

“When is it?” 

 

“Hell if I know. Next month sometime.”

 

Ugh. Of course Adam would go, because this was Ronan and he had an entirely inappropriate crush on him, but he wanted to at least  _ pretend _ like he had some semblance of social life that demanded advanced warning.

 

“Well, as long as I’m not busy…”

 

Ronan wrapped his knuckles on Adam’s desk and, just like that, he left.

 

This was definitely not a date. It… wasn’t even  _ close _ to a date. 

 

Still.

 

* * *

 

_ March 2018 _

 

The fact that Ronan was actually excited to chaperone Winter Formal was a true testament to how far gone he was on Adam Parrish. He was never one for dances, like,  _ ever _ , but he’d grown up with a spirited younger brother and watched enough teen rom-coms to know that school dances were a big-fucking-deal. 

 

When he was fourteen, Mathew practiced dance moves by watching YouTube tutorials (and despite loving his younger brother very, very much, Ronan selfishly let Matthew study the Waltz and Foxtrot because it gave him immense pleasure to imagine the inevitable crash and burn that would be asking a girl to dance) and whined to their mother for days about what to wear.

 

Being that Ronan cared how this night turned out, it briefly occurred to him that it might be smart to plan the night out in advance. Thankfully, being a Chaperone insured learning dance moves was completely unnecessary. In fact, it was encouraged to be a horrible dancer if you were a teacher, as nothing turned teenagers off faster (thus moving asses from the vicinity of pelvises) than a teacher dancing awkwardly a foot behind them. So dancing was unnecessary. 

 

Dinner before? Nada. It was understood that the Chaperone team would show up as late as possible, as teachers did not waste free time. Brainstorming potential topics of discussion was unnecessary, because school dances were goldmines for adults. (So many embarrassing moments to gossip about. So many teens unsuccessfully sneaking in booze to make fun of. So many awful songs to complain about.)

 

That only left thinking about what to wear. But Ronan already had a suit he wore for Church, one that he  _ never _ wore to school, because fuck that. He taught woodshop.

 

So he had nothing to prepare for. Nothing to worry about.

 

Except, of course, counting down the days.

 

And  _ oh  _ did the days drag. Ronan tried to find reasons to run into Adam. Sent him stupid memes over the school email so that Adam, unaccustomed to popular culture, would be forced to ask him what it meant and thereby respond to his email. He encouraged Gansey (or Blue, or Noah, or Henry; any of them, it didn’t matter) to set up a group happy hour. 

 

Once, he got so desperate to see Adam that he suggested they meet at a cafe to do  _ grading _ together. Which Adam took him up on, fortunately.  _ Un _ fortunately, Adam took grading extremely serious and said almost nothing the entire time. (Though Ronan hardly cared; Adam in true concentration mode meant he was blind to Ronan’s heavy gaze.)

 

Then, finally, it was the dance.

 

Gansey had gotten almost the entire gang to come, sans Noah, who so elegantly explained that he would rather have his skull be bludgeoned in than chaperone a dance.

 

Of course, Henry split them up almost immediately. Ronan and Blue were supposed to count tickets, while Gansey and Adam monitored the dance floor. It was a slow, steady stream of students at first - no one showed up the first hour, as being “fashionably late” was perhaps the only societal rule that remained over the years - and Ronan was bored out of his mind. Blue did her best to entertain him, but without Adam, he felt jittery. He only came to this shit show to be  _ with _ Adam, not to pretend he was comparing the ID of every student to the list of ticket sales. (Because, really, who the fuck was going to sneak into a high school dance?)

 

He’d made a small pile of shredded tickets by the time Blue said, “Want me to see if Gansey would switch you spots?”

 

Ronan narrowed his eyes at her. Did she  _ know? _

 

Blue raised her hands in defense. “Chill, dude. I could use the time to talk about a student with Gansey, that’s all.”

 

_ That’s all. _ Huh. Didn’t you only say that if you  _ knew _ there was something more to the story? Ronan tugged at his neck of his black tie, loosening it. God fucking suits. Why did he wear this again? Gansey was the only one who’d dressed up besides him and he felt ridiculous. The kids kept whistling at him and crooning,  _ “Looking sharp, Mr. Lynch!” _ and it didn’t give the impression that they feared him. He needed the children to fear him. He was shit at behavior management, he got by only through scowling and bitching at them.

 

“Are you going to get Gansey or not?” Blue asked.

 

Oh. Right. 

 

“Jesus, fine.” 

 

Thankfully, he found Gansey standing next to Adam, both keeping an eye on the dance floor. As he walked toward them, he could hear Gansey shouting over the blaring beat,  _ “Do you think we should step in?” _ Adam shook his head.  _ “Why not?” _

 

Ronan slung his arm around Gansey’s shoulder right as Adam said, “Because they’ll just do it anyway. Oh, speaking of miscreants…”

 

“Ronan, you’ve chaperoned before, haven’t you?” Gansey pointed to a group of teens who were definitely not honoring the banner hanging above their heads that warned,  _ Keep it classy or we’ll get sassy!  _ (Teacher made, clearly, because it didn’t have any typos.) “Do you think I should step in?”

 

“Nope.”

 

Adam’s lips twitched in a satisfied smile. Gansey pinched the bridge of his nose. “But it’s our  _ job.” _

 

“No, our  _ job _ is to educate, not to babysit. As long as you don’t see actual sex on the dancefloor, it’s fine. And like Parrish said, they’ll just do it anyway.”

 

Gansey looked pained. Sensing that he wouldn’t win with Ronan, Gansey turned his attention back to Adam and said, “But what if--”

 

“Look, Gansey: if you want to say something, say something. Who knows, maybe they’ll remember their boring teachers are here and realize it’s not an ideal place to do this.” Adam placed his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “But this is what teens do. They make mistakes, and frankly, embarrassing themselves with oversexualized dancing in front of their peers is a pretty harmless mistake.” 

 

When Gansey still didn’t look convinced, Adam added, “Just try to remember that they’re still developing their prefrontal cortex, and some day they’ll look back on their behavior and cringe.”

 

“Nerd.”

 

Adam rolled his eyes at Ronan, but in that way of his that always unsuccessfully hid his amusement. Adam’s science-talk seemed to do the trick, though, because Gansey finally relaxed against the wall, crushing a few brightly colored streamers with his back. He frowned suddenly and said, “Are you taking a break?”

 

“Oh, shit, that’s right.” Ronan jerked his head to the entrance, where Blue was craning her neck to glare at them. She tapped her wrist as if she had a watch. “You’re switching with me. The midget wants some D.”

 

“Ronan,  _ please. _ ” 

 

If it wasn’t so dark in the gym, Ronan would swear Gansey was blushing. He sped off toward his partner, leaving behind an exasperated Adam.

 

“You know,” drawled Adam, “I think I chide you more on your inappropriate language than I do my teenage students.”

 

“Can’t help it. I got dick on my mind.”

 

Adam paused for an unusual amount of time. He was always quick to have a retort to Ronan - almost maddeningly so, because Ronan was so fucked up that he found verbal sparring to be a turn on - but Adam pulled his bottom lip under his teeth for a moment to think.

 

“Is this your way of coming out to me?” He asked finally. Adam said it with a sarcastic tone, but it didn’t match the expression on his face.

 

Ronan scoffed. “Actually, I was referring to the giant dick that someone graffitied on that underwater decoration behind you.”

 

Adam turned quickly to see the work himself. Ronan wasn’t lying: there was a giant, anatomically incorrect drawing of a penis that someone had drawn between the sketches of fish and seaweed. It wasn’t subtle in the slightest, so either it had been recently drawn, or Noah had become so immune to finding dicks in students’ artwork that it didn’t even register.

 

“Oh,” Adam said. “Right.”

 

Ronan sucked in a deep breath. It was the stupidest way to officially come out to Adam, but why the fuck not?

 

“Though I can’t blame you for thinking that’s how I would tell you I’m gay. Pretty sure the conversation went similarly with my brother.”

 

Adam blinked. “Oh?”

 

Ronan tried to keep up the air of casualty. This wasn’t a big deal. Plenty of people knew he was gay; he wasn’t exactly  _ hiding _ it. 

 

“I was sixteen, what can I say? No prefrontal cortex or something sciency, you wouldn’t understand. I was planning a much better coming-out when I told you, though.”

 

Adam smiled. “Oh yeah?”

 

“I was going to burst out of a big cake that says,  _ ‘I’m Gay!’ _ Had the pep band lined up to do a little diddy and everything.” He faked a shrug of disappointment. “Way to jump the gun, Parrish.”

 

“I fucked up,” Adam agreed. 

 

Adam was officially grinning now. This was good, right? If he was going to be weird about it, he wouldn’t be smiling. Because he was a nervous fuck, however, Ronan added, “You’re not going to be weird about this, right? Tell me you’ll pray for my sins, or get all judgey on me?”

 

“Well, that depends,” Adam said slowly. Was it Ronan’s imagination, or had he stepped a bit closer? It was probably just hard to hear over the horrific music. “Are you going to be the type of gay guy who tries to convince me being bi is just a phase? Because I’ll definitely judge you then.”

 

It took Ronan a bit to register the implication of Adam’s words.  _ He’s bi. He’s  _ **_bi._ ** Ronan had suspected for awhile but this was different. This meant-- It meant-- Maybe all those times he wanted to believe they were flirting were, in fact,  _ flirting. _

 

Oh, fuck, Adam was still waiting for a response. Ever so eloquently, Ronan said, “Nah.”

 

Adam rolled his eyes at him again, but there was that little smile of his sneaking through. Ronan thought his stomach couldn’t twist any tighter upon seeing that look, but then Adam looked at him -  _ really _ looked, like eyes wandering up and down Ronan’s body with a quick flick- and said, “You look nice, tonight.”

 

Ronan had excuses and jokes on his tongue.  _ Well, one of us had to,  _ or,  _ I need these teenage boys to understand what a good suit  _ actually _ looks like, instead of the shit they rented.  _ But Adam’s look - steady and serious - gave him courage to let the comment linger. 

 

Adam clearly wasn’t expecting this, though. His eyes dropped to the ground when Ronan did not look away, and he cleared his throat. “Um, I saw Opal somewhere around here.”

 

Ronan allowed the conversation change. He had time - all evening in fact - to get Adam to smile that way again. 

 

* * *

 

 

Near the end of the dance, Ronan suddenly pulled Adam away from the commotion of the dancefloor and led him down one of the closed off halls. Someone had done a poor job of making the hallway secure (it had nothing but a fold-out chair sitting in front of it and a sign that said “DO NOT ENTER”) so it was no surprise when Ronan muttered, “Let’s check how many hooligans are hiding out back here.”

 

They split up and scanned the halls. The echo of Ronan barking at a few students to get back to the gym echoed through the art building where Adam was currently checking, and it made him instinctively smile. It was quite cute how he thought students were actually intimidated by his shouting.

 

He found Ronan again just as Henry’s voice drifted from the gym, shouting, “Thank you for coming out, but it’s time you kids clear out!” 

 

“All clear down here.”

 

“You check the make out room?”

 

“The  _ what?” _

 

“Jesus, Parrish, you’ve been here this long and you don’t know about the make out room? My God.” They walked back down the hall, Ronan leading the way. “It’s this storage room for the drama club. Has a bunch of old costumes and props, smells musty as hell, but you know teens. Their hormones overpower all.”

 

They made a show of being extra loud as they approached the room. Ronan kicked at the door three times, yelling, “If anybody is in here, I’m going to give you ten seconds to pretend like you’re just here to look for old  _ Little Mermaid _ costumes to add to the ambiance, then I’m coming in!”

 

The room was, shockingly, empty. When Adam gestured to go back, Ronan shook his head and sighed, “So naive, Parrish.”

 

“You really think kids are hiding in there?”

 

“Sargent said she found kids hiding underneath a pile of old costumes once.”

 

Thankfully, the room wasn’t as terrible as Ronan made it out to be. The lights were an unattractive shade of mellow-yellow, and the costumes could have used a spritz or two of Febreeze, but Adam could - hypothetically - see why the students tried to sneak in.

 

It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he was alone in a small space with the unholy combination of Ronan Lynch and an all-black suit.

 

Nothing at all.

 

Adam let Ronan search through the piles of old costumes while he looked through some of the props. He’d never gone to any of the school plays, having assumed anything student-led would be embarrassingly bad, but it was rather impressive to see the elaborately painted props. In the back corner there was even a giant plant with razor sharp teeth.

 

“All clear.”

 

Adam turned back to see Ronan leaning against a wooden table. He joined him there, allowing himself a moment of stupidity by pressing the length of his shoulder against Ronan’s. “You seem surprised.”

 

Ronan shrugged but with his entire body, and somehow in the gesture his thigh leaned against Adam’s leg. There was no need for it, of course, and Adam found himself biting his lip to suppress a smile. 

 

Slowly, Ronan said, “This might be the first time two people have been in this room without making out.”

 

“We’re probably breaking a law of the universe,” Adam agreed.

 

Ronan sucked in a steady breath of air. Adam’s fingers twitched at his side. Again, he wondered what it was about being in a high school that sucked all experience from his limbs. He’d gone on plenty of dates before. Adam knew how to ask someone out on a date both casually and confidently; he didn’t worry about reaching for their hand as they watched a movie, he just did it; and he certainly,  _ certainly _ had no problem swooping in for a kiss when all signs pointed to it being the right moment.

  
So why was it so hard to buck up the courage to do that now?

 

Adam licked his bottom lip. This was stupid.  _ This was stupid. _ He could do this. 

 

He turned toward Ronan. 

 

_ Oh God, Ronan was already looking at him. _ And he looked nothing like the usual Ronan. Gone was the haughty grin and narrowed eyes; in their place were lips barely parted and blue eyes that were drifting down.

 

And then--

 

There was a loud thud at the door.

 

Then someone was rattling the doorknob.

 

Adam, assuming it was another teacher doing the same “warning, warning” schtick that Ronan did earlier, was about to call out that the room was clear when the door burst open and two bodies stumbled in. 

 

It was Blue and Gansey.

 

And they were definitely,  _ definitely _ making out.

 

Which was putting it mildly. Gansey was holding her up in his arms, her legs wrapped around his torso, as their lips mashed together in a way that was probably pleasant for them, but entirely  _ un _ pleasant to watch. 

 

They clearly did not know the room was occupied, as Gansey kept walking further and further into the depths of the room. Adam looked to Ronan quickly, feeling stunned by the abrupt shift in situations.

 

Ronan solved the dilemma by sticking out one leg and shoving his foot into Gansey’s ass. Gansey stopped moving abruptly and his hands untangled themselves from Blue’s hair. His body slowly turned around, taking Blue with him, to gaze at Ronan and Adam.

 

Gansey had a smear of Blue’s wine lipstick across his lips. “Oh-- uh. Hello.”

 

Blue suddenly found the ceiling very intriguing. 

 

“Well,” Adam said. “I guess everything is right in the universe again.”

 

* * *

 

 

Blue made them swear to never mention the incident again, backing up her threat with a colorful - and strangely specific - description of what she would do to them if they broke their promise.

 

But as the four of them ushered the last remaining students out of the gym, Ronan whispered to Adam, “Okay, but like… we’re definitely going to talk about this later, right?”

 

“Oh yeah.”

 

Ronan pressed a little more. He didn’t want Adam to think this was a casual, “someday” type conversation. It wasn’t that he needed to talk about Blue and Gansey, per say, but that he had felt like the evening was going somewhere, somewhere that involved gettings his hands (and lips) on Adam, and he worried the momentum would slip away once the night ended.

 

So he suggested, “Milkshakes?”

 

Adam peered at Ronan suspiciously. He probably thought Ronan chose the drink as a way to spare him from having to be around alcohol. On the contrary. For once, this wasn’t about sparing Adam’s feelings: Ronan wanted to be sober for this. 

Adam still hadn’t said anything. Fuck. There was no way Ronan had been misreading the signs earlier, right? Adam  _ had  _ wanted to kiss him, and that was saying something because the make out room was somehow damp and yet shockingly warm.

 

“Sure,” Adam said. “I happen to know a place.”

 

As it turned out, every Aglionby teenager happened to know the exact same place as well, and they all screamed when they saw two of their teachers arrive at the 24-hour diner. The group was overly enthusiastic - grabbing at Ronan’s arms and tugging him toward the table, meanwhile emitting a cacophony of sounds that vaguely resembled words. Combined with the glare from glittered dresses and too-bright cumberbuns, Ronan had an instant headache. 

 

Adam whispered through the side of his mouth, “Drunk?”

 

“No. Worse.” Ronan sighed.  _ “Theater kids.” _

 

As if summoned by name, they started to sing. In the diner. (He had never heard someone add vocal runs to  _ “Feel the rain on your skin”  _ and he had to say… it didn’t work.)

 

Ronan, ever the gentleman, volunteered to make small-talk with the teenagers - in the sense that he listened to the kids rattle off what they’d done the entire day and occasionally chime, “Neat” - while Adam ordered them two milkshakes to go. At some point Ronan tuned the chatter out and plotted how best to get revenge on the drama nerds for ruining his date with Adam.

 

In the end, though, it was for the best. Adam suggested they drink their hot chocolate and walk (“Milkshakes seemed like a bad idea in this weather...”), and no amount of darkness or blistering breeze could make Ronan go back inside that diner. Not when he had the excuse to press close to Adam for heat. 

 

They talked about the evening first, saving the most pressing conversation for later. Ronan was pleased that, despite Adam tossing his finished cup in the trash ten minutes into their walk, that he continued the conversation with no intent of stopping.

 

“How long do you think it’s been going on?” 

 

Ronan thought back to the bonfire at his house. Gansey had  _ insisted _ on walking Blue to the bathroom, which at the time seemed simply Ganseylike, but it retrospect it reeked of  _ flirting. _

 

“Oh God. What if they hooked up  _ at my house?” _ Ronan shuddered. Okay, he fake-shuddered for dramatic effect. Same thing. 

 

“To think. We were innocently roasting marshmallows and they were probably macking it in your childhood home.”

 

“Gross.”

 

Ronan was done with his own hot chocolate now. They were coming upon a park - one with an elaborate jungle gym set shaped like a pirate ship - and Ronan pounced on the opportunity. Tossing his drink in the trash, he scrambled up the slide and found the fake steering wheel.

 

_ “Really?” _ Adam called. 

 

“I believed I promised to hijack a boat the next time we hung out. Just us.” Never mind that Adam hadn’t  _ realized _ Ronan had meant the two of them.

 

Adam rolled his eyes. “This hardly counts as a boat.”

 

“Finding a boat in the middle of rural Virginia would seem a little unrealistic, don’t you think? Don’t be picky, Parrish.”

 

Adam folded his arms to his chest. Even from above, Ronan could see the arch of his eyebrow.

 

“Are you going to get up here or not?”

 

Adam relented almost immediately. So much for his judgmental tone. “Fine. But I’m taking the stairs.”

 

“Boring.”

 

Soon Adam joined him at the helm of the boat, sliding his hand against the curve of the steering wheel. When he pulled his hand back his fingers were coated with a light sheen of mist. Ronan fought the urge to pull Adam’s hands into his pockets. 

 

He was suddenly aware of how close they were and how quiet the park was. Adam had draped his arms over the railing of the boat and was looking out into the park. Ronan desperately wanted to know what was going through his brain, whether Adam was on the same page as him. Was the phrase,  _ kiss him, kiss him, kiss him _ on repeat in his head, too? It was impossible to tell. 

  
  
  


Ronan cleared his throat. “Well. If they’re happy, then I guess that’s good.”

 

Adam wrinkled his nose. “I’m annoyed with them, so I’m not in the mood to be polite.”

 

“Why?”

 

Adam ignored Ronan’s question and said, “God, the teenagers have rotted their brains. Could you imagine wanting to make out in the same room as  _ teenagers?” _

 

Yeah. Who’d want that? Certainly not Ronan. 

 

“When you gotta’ bone, you gotta’ bone.”

 

Adam cuffed him in the back of his head for the comment. “I’m serious. I just-- Sometimes I wonder whether teaching high school makes us all de-evolve. We’re  _ adults _ . We don’t need to sneak into abandoned, cramped rooms to get a bit frisky. We have apartments. Houses.”

 

“All true.” Ronan didn’t understand Adam’s sudden passion. Also, why did he keep referring to “we”? Annoyed, he added, “But don’t lump me in with them.”

 

Adam snorted. 

 

“What?”

 

Adam bit his bottom lip. It would have been sexy if not for the hard edge in his eye. Just as quickly as the expression came, however, he turned away and ran a hand through his hair.

 

“I don’t know. It’s nothing. Just something I’ve been thinking about lately.” He drummed his knuckles against the bar. “Probably from my perpetual state of singledom.” 

 

GO OUT WITH ME, Ronan wanted to scream. Instead, he managed a semi-casual, “You know this isn’t a real boat, right? No point in going fishing. I bet you get asked out all the time.”

 

“Ha.”

 

He thought back to summer. “Maybe you just don’t  _ realize _ you’re being asked out.”

 

“I don’t know how to say this without coming across as an arrogant dick, but Ronan,  _ I have a Master’s degree.  _ I’m pretty sure I’d know if someone was asking me out.”

 

Oh, how badly did Ronan want to rub it in his face that, no, in fact, he  _ wasn’t _ that smart. It didn’t seem like the best way to admit his feelings for the man, however.

 

“Okay, so we’re narrowing it down bit by bit. The rules for your ideal, romantic meet-cute of sorts.” Ronan began to tick off his fingers. “No sneaking into rooms to make out. No passing a note that says,  _ ‘Do you like me? Circle ‘yes’ or ‘no.’ _ Nothing that reminds you of high school, really. Man, you’re fucking picky.”

 

“I’m not picky. I’m just an  _ adult _ , and I want to feel like an adult.” Adam pushed back the hair from his face again. It struck Ronan, suddenly, that it was a nervous gesture. He was  _ nervous. _ And if that wasn’t proof enough, Adam was being awfully truthful; words kept tumbling out of the normally careful boy. “I want something natural. Something-- Something that isn’t calculated, just two people who know they like each other and  _ do  _ something about it.”

 

Then Adam looked at Ronan.

 

Ronan had already been looking at Adam.

 

He knew, instinctively, that this was the moment. Because Adam was right, to a certain degree. When you were young and innocent, knowing when to kiss was difficult. It was a careful game, two players orbiting and not knowing whether it was a successful strategy to make the first move. And that was fun, in a way. When the stakes were high, failing was devastating but winning was everything. 

 

The older you got the more you realized it was never a game, though. It’s the simplest thing in the world, really. You think someone is cute. You ask them out. You kiss them goodnight - or don’t - and schedule another date - or don’t. That’s it. 

 

He had been making this too complicated. Ronan’s gut told him that Adam liked him. Why not make a move? 

 

But Ronan looked around him. They were on a boat. Nay, a  _ pretend _ boat. With a slide and monkey bars and a set of blocks that rotated to spell various words.

 

Adam said he didn’t want anything juvenile. 

 

And then Adam licked his bottom lip. 

 

“Fuck it,” Ronan muttered.

 

Ronan grabbed Adam by the edge of his coat and pulled him close. It took approximately five seconds to warm Adam’s lips from the cold, but when Adam tilted onto his toes and gripped the back of Ronan’s neck, he was quickly convinced to give them extra attention. He took his time with Adam, lips exploring carefully. In the still of the night he could hear every sound - the creak of the jungle gym under their feet, the rustle of hands over jackets, and best of all, the soft pop of Adam’s lips when they parted, allowing Ronan one moment to press his tongue to his. 

 

Ronan knew there would time to be passionate - to make Adam pant and beg - but real first kisses weren’t meant to be that way. Ronan wanted it to be slow and sweet. To leave Adam satisfied but curious for more.

 

Adam pulled away to let out a shaky breath. The air was so cold that Ronan could see it.

 

“Go out with me,” Adam said.

 

It was in Ronan to make a joke. It would be so easy.

 

Instead, he said, “When?”

 

* * *

 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I debated adding more but then I was like, holy shit, this is getting so long already. Maybe I'll do some post-relationship scenes someday. And more scenes of Angel, as he was the breakout hit of Part 1. 
> 
> Thanks for giving me love! This has been the year from hellll and I've been working on this fic for the past three months as a coping mechanism. But the good news is that summer vacation is a sweet 21 days away and I get a break from the hot mess that is my school district.

**Author's Note:**

> No, stupid, dumb Adam, that's not what you were supposed to realize!
> 
> As you read Part 1, you probably thought to yourself, "Huh. This fic seems weirdly specific. Why does Ronan go on a long rant about data-tracking? Why is Adam such a stick in the mud about emailing at work? This whole Challenge Day thing seems very detailed." To which I'll say: hello, this is basically my life for the past 6 months, except minus the crippling anxiety of being laid off. I was going to wait to post it until Part 2 was officially done (I have two more scenes) but today I got YET ANOTHER piece of conflicting, stressful news about my job and I was like, fuck this! I'm posting this fic! 
> 
> I call Part 1 the "Enemies to Friends" arc, and Part 2 is the "Friends to Lovers" arc. As such, Part 2 is probably more interesting. Still, if you enjoyed any part of this, I would appreciate you detailing it to me in a 5-paragraph essay, MLA citations, double-spaced, Times New Roman, size 12 font. Okay, fine, a CER paragraph will suffice.
> 
> (DOES ANYONE GET THIS? It's a teacher joke. Kill me.)


End file.
